


Nice

by janescott



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-28
Updated: 2010-06-28
Packaged: 2017-10-10 07:34:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janescott/pseuds/janescott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loosely based on this http://community.livejournal.com/aianonlovefest prompt: http://community.livejournal.com/aianonlovefest/6425.html?thread=6789401#t6789401. Someone suggested Johnny Weir, and this doesn't really fill the prompt, but this is what showed up in my brain for some reason ... beta'd by i_bleed_magenta</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nice

"Eight months?" Adam rears up on the bed, his eyes wide with shock. "Seriously? I thought I had it bad on tour, but eight months - that's just ... cruel."

Johnny rolls his eyes as he turns on to his side, green eyes bright in the dim lamplight of the overly ornate hotel room. Late November in New York and it's already freezing cold outside; rain rattling against the windows, but the quiet room is warm and intimate.

"I can't while I'm competing. Coach's rule. So the last time was ... in Vancouver. Right after the Olympics. And after that ... well, I wasn't really ... looking for anything for a long time. And you know - when you stop looking ..."

"It stops looking for you," Adam murmurs.

He leans back against the pillows and stares up at the elaborately carved ceiling. He's in New York for a series of post-tour yes-it-was-great; we're-talking-about-the-next-album now interviews and had admired a tight ass in the hotel bar on his way back up to his room. An impulsive decision and a couple of cocktails had led him to talking to the owner of said ass, and Adam had been more pleased than he thought he should be when he'd discovered it belonged to Johnny Weir.

They'd talked, and flirted; and when Adam had suggested they carry on talking up in his room - away from prying eyes - Johnny had agreed.

The funny thing is, Adam thinks as he searches his own memory for the last time he'd had sex with someone that wasn't his own right hand, they really had talked; having more in common than he'd thought.

He'd joked to press before about liking pretty boys in their early to mid-20s, which is true enough, but finding one with a brain in his head as well as a pretty face - that's harder, and Adam knows he's still comparing them to Brad in his mind, which is something he doesn't want to think about too closely, because if he's still carrying a torch after all this time - that's just a little pathetic.

Johnny, Adam remembers from meeting him briefly at the Glaad awards, is sharply funny, as well as smart, and it's nice to just ... talk for a while.

Adam's not entirely sure how the topic of the last time either of them had sex had come up (well - he does. He asked, but he doesn't want to seem _obvious_ and he's not really the sort of person to turn to someone and say 'so ... can I fuck you now?.' So it's not exactly subtle, but by the slightly sly look Johnny gives him from those pretty eyes, he's more than willing to go along with the slight deception, which is ... settling, because it means they're on the same page, and Adam appreciates the unspoken agreement.)

A warm hand on his chest brings him back from his wandering thoughts. "And you? When was the last time for you? Yesterday? This morning?"

Adam laughs at that, and slides his hand over Johnny's winding their fingers together as the wind blows another burst of rain against the window. "I'm trying to remember. Contrary to public opinion, I'm not the sex god everyone seems to think. It's harder for me to get laid than people think. Unless I'm in LA, and I can call on old friends I can trust ... let's just say I'm closer to my right hand than I should be."

Johnny pulls a small face at that, but laughs and nods in understanding. "So - when and who?"

Adam closes his eyes, shifting a little on the bed as Johnny slides the tips of his fingers over the palm of Adam's hand. "If you keep doing that, I'm never going to remember."

"Uh huh." Johnny flips Adam's palm and starts planting tiny kisses all over it, which is really fucking _distracting_.

"Uh ... oh, god. It was - two months ago. On ... tour. Fuck!" Adam's eyes fly open as Johnny unexpectedly sucks his index finger into his mouth, sliding his tongue up and down as he studies Adam from under his eyelashes. He pulls off Adam's finger with an obscene pop of his mouth that Adam is sure he over exaggerates for effect, and the flush of _want_ that he's felt since seeing Johnny in the bar floods his whole body like sparks igniting a bonfire.

"And who was it? That pretty little bass player? One of your dancers?" Adam blinks at Johnny in surprise, who just laughs.

"What? I looked up a couple of your shows on YouTube one day. So?"

Before Adam can formulate any kind of response to that, Johnny licks slowly up Adam's middle finger, a smirk quirking up the corner of his mouth. "Fucking tease," Adam says, his voice coming out breathless and hitchy rather than the light tone he was aiming for, as he watches Johnny's mouth at work. Johnny just raises his eyebrows in an 'answer the question' fashion and Adam has to close his eyes for a moment.

"Uh - n-no. None of the above. My ex-boyfriend flew out from LA for a show. We - um." Two fingers. Jesus. Adam can only stare, as Johnny works his fingers over with his mouth, and Adam gets a startling, clear vision of what that mouth would look like around his cock, which responds to the mental image accordingly, straining at his jeans. He absently presses down on his erection with his free hand, earning another smile from Johnny.

"And?"

"And what?"

Johnny sighs, and sits up on the bed, neatly crossing his legs. "Details, Adam. Details _matter_. You tell me yours, I'll tell you mine."

Adam stares at Johnny's mouth; shining a little wet still and gives in to the impulse to rub his thumb over it; feeling it slick and hot under his skin. Johnny shivers a little at the touch, and Adam admires the shift of Johnny's shoulder muscles under his tight t-shirt. He's lean, and muscular without being bulky and Adam _wants_.

"Not much to tell. He flew out to a show. We talked for a bit, and I - I fucked him in my dressing room. He went back to LA - the end."

Johnny cocks his head to one side and studies Adam's face. "Hmmm. That's not what I would call _details_. Was there kissing? Was it ... intimate, or just a quick fuck to get off? Were you safe?"

Adam lets out a small, startled laugh and rubs his hand over his face, forgetting temporarily about his makeup. Johnny takes his other hand again, and begins tracing small patterns on the back of it.

For a moment, the silence in the room is only broken by the weather outside - the wind and rain howling around the hotel; making Adam feel slightly lonely even though he's not alone. He leans back against the headboard and closes his eyes; mentally rewinding the past couple of months, even as he feels Johnny lean against him; resting his head on Adam's shoulder and curling an arm around Adam's waist. It's ... nice. Human contact.

Adam slips a hand down Johnny's back; silently appreciating the feel of tight muscles, wondering for a moment what that would feel like bare - Johnny under him; his back arching; his skin maybe sheened with sweat ...

"It was ... strange. I don't know how to describe it exactly. He gave me this look, and said something like ... 'I know what you're missing, cher,' and then ... I don't know." Adam lets out another small laugh. "He'd planned it, the fucker. Brought condoms and lube with him. Locked the door after telling Lane to not let anyone near me for the next half an hour ... it was ... is nice insulting?" Adam opens his eyes and looks at Johnny, who's watching him with rapt attention.

"Nice," Johnny repeats, his tone indecipherable.

"Well ... yeah. I mean, don't get me wrong, the sex was - kind of amazing. But being with someone I knew ... someone I could _trust_ ... it was nice."

"In that case ... no. Nice isn't insulting."

"Okay, now you. Eight months, right. Was it good? Was he ... nice? Were you safe?"

It's Johnny's turn to laugh a little before sighing and wriggling himself a little closer, which Adam's not going to complain about at all, and his expression shutters for a moment; something almost hurt fleeting across it.

"Eight months. Right after the Olympics, like I said. Night before the closing ceremonies, and it felt like the whole Olympic village was at a party. I was ... I didn't feel much like celebrating, I suppose. So - I went out. Found myself in some ... bar. I was totally lost. I had a couple of drinks, and you know; when you haven't drunk alcohol for a while ... anyway. I wasn't entirely sober.

"He was ... I never found out his name. I didn't want to take him back to my room; and I certainly didn't want to go home with him ... I don't know. I wanted to - bury myself for a while. _Lose_ myself. And he was right there. And willing. The ... bar's bathroom had those vending machines, you know?"

Adam just nods, and pushes his fingers under the hem of Johnny's t-shirt; stroking at the smooth skin of his lower back. "Yeah; I know."

"So - it was ... kind of awful. The bathroom was filthy and the only good thing I can say is that the condom didn't break. I got out of there as fast as I could, got a cab back to my room, and called my coach to come and talk me out of drinking the entire mini-bar."

"That's ..." Adam doesn't know what to say, so he just keeps stroking Johnny's back; over, and over. Johnny's eyes half-close and he arches slightly; tilting his head back.

"I know. It's kind of depressing. And I kept thinking ... 'I haven't had sex in _months_ and _this_ is the story I get?"

Adam gives in to impulse and presses his lips to the hollow at the base of Johnny's throat; smiling against the pulse that's beating too fast under Johnny's skin. Johnny hums a little and shifts so he's straddling Adam's hips, pulling a face as he tries to wind his fingers through Adam's hair.

"Your hair is sticky," he says, a little breathless as Adam skims his t-shirt up his back, patiently waiting for Johnny to raise his arms so he can pull it off over his head.

Adam runs his hands down the front of Johnny's torso; admiring the shift and play of Johnny's muscles under his skin. Johnny smiles and arches his hips into Adam's hard cock, biting his bottom lip.

"Did he kiss you?" Adam asks suddenly.

"What?"

"Mr Anonymous in Vancouver. Did he kiss you."

"Uh ... no. Just - fucked me in a stall, slapped my ass and left. Why?"

Adam shakes his head and leans forward, biting gently at Johnny's bottom lip. "Criminal," he says softly as Johnny opens his mouth; almost automatically. Adam groans a little as Johnny's hands start working on the buttons of his shirt; his fingers slipping underneath to seek out skin.

"Wait. Have you got - I mean ... all this talk ..." Johnny's eyes are wide and almost dark; his hair is sticking up and his mouth is already red.

Adam closes his eyes for a moment so he can _think_.

"Yes. After I saw - Drake at the show ... he made me promise. But it's in the - bathroom. In my makeup bag."

Johnny slides off Adam, and off the bed, with the kind of grace that makes Adam's fingers itchy. "I'll get it," he says, throwing a sultry look over his shoulder, even as he strips out of his jeans; offering Adam an excellent look at his tight, muscular ass.

As quickly as he can, while Johnny's in the bathroom, Adam strips off the rest of his clothes, and idly strokes his hard cock a few times, stroking his thumb over the leaking tip.

"Oh, very pretty," Johnny says, coming back with a strip of condoms and a little bottle of lube. "Don't stop on my account," he says, crawling back on to the bed; his eyes gleaming like a cat's.

Adam gives himself one more leisurely pull, before reaching out, drawing Johnny into the circle of his arms again, and kissing him as thoroughly as he can. "I could say the same about you," he says, reaching down to stroke one finger up Johnny's hard length.

"Oh. Yes. This is a _much_ better story already."

Adam grins, wicked and wide, and reaches for the lube, slicking his fingers with the cold liquid. "Lie down," he says.

"You know," Johnny says as he settles on his back and spreads his legs a little. "I can put my legs behind my head. I can bend over so far that it almost defies physics. I can make my body pretty much do anything I want it to do. You know - if you're interested ..."

"Uh huh," Adam says, distracted as he starts tracing Johnny's hole with one slick finger. "Some day, you can show me. Right now, though, if it's all right with you, I just want to fuck you into this mattress and kiss you until we both forget our names. How's that?"

Johnny arches his back and digs the fingers of one hand into Adam's shoulder as a small groan escapes his mouth.

"That's ... uh ... that's ... good." Adam adds a second finger; and a third, as the wind and the rain beat relentlessly against the window; winter fruitlessly trying to force its way in. He smiles down at Johnny, who's biting his lip and tilting his head back against the pillow; giving Adam an excellent look at the long line of his neck. Johnny's cock is hard and flat against his equally flat stomach, but Johnny's hands are all over Adam; like he's memorising the feel of someone else's skin under his hands.

Adam pauses long enough to roll the condom on, and slick himself, before lining up with Johnny's entrance. He pushes in slowly, biting his bottom lip hard; even as small moans escape. "God, you feel -" he's cut off from talking by Johnny's mouth - hard and urgent - on his, and Johnny's legs wrapped around his hips; pulling him in closer, and closer, until the only sounds in the room are the wind and rain; and the ancient, filthy sound of skin slapping against skin.

Adam wakes up a few hours later, feeling like a sweaty, disgusting mess, but more at peace than he's felt in months. Johnny's gone, but he's left a note on the pillow that Adam picks up, even as his phone on the nightstand starts ringing. He glances at the display - it's Lane - and lets it go to voicemail as he reads the note, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

It's a phone number; followed by: _thank you. that was ... nice. J_.

Adam enters the number into his phone and, still smiling, heads into the bathroom for a shower.


End file.
